Page 12 of Her Bossy Lumberjack

The cherry orchard disappears.

All that’s left is Kane—his musky taste, his hungry tongue—and a bolt of need zips between my legs as I melt against his broad, muscular chest, losing myself in him.

I can’t get enough.

I want more of my sexy lumberjack.

So much more.

6

KANE

My heart crashes against my chest as I claim Hannah’s sweet mouth, finally giving in to temptation. She tastes like ice cream and cherry sauce, and I groan as I suck on her plump bottom lip, tangling my hands in her long red hair. This girl is fucking heavenly, and my cock swells with need, straining against my boxers as her curves press against me.

Holy shit.

Hannah kisses me back eagerly, her tongue lapping at mine, her soft little whimpers driving me crazy. I push my hard bulge against her, savoring the way she gasps. Red-hot need is burning through me, primal and urgent. I need to claim my girl. I need to bury my cock in her sweet heat and watch her come undone for me. I’ve wanted it since the moment I saw her, but now that she’s in my arms, the desire is burning stronger than ever.

From a million miles away, a voice echoes over the loudspeaker, disturbing the peace of the cherry orchard. I block it out, but Hannah stills against me and pulls away from our kiss, eyes sparkling.

“Listen,” she says, grinning at me.

I resist the urge to pull her back toward me and do as she says, listening to the voice.

“—SO MANY WONDERFUL PIES. BUT THE JUDGES HAVE MADE THEIR DECISION.”

I’d forgotten all about the pie contest, but I chuckle hoarsely at the excitement on her face.

“AND THE WINNER IS…GINGER SNAP!”

Hannah’s mouth falls open, her face a mix of delight and confusion.

“But…” she says, “Ginger Snap…I didn’t…”

“I might have changed the name on your pie,” I say.

She blinks at me, her face splitting into a beam. “So…I won?”

“You sure did, beautiful.”

She squeals with delight and throws her arms around me. I can’t help laughing as I kiss her pretty face—cheeks, nose, forehead—every inch of her that I can reach.

“Always knew you’d win,” I tell her, my heart squeezing with affection.

She grins at me. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “I promise never to doubt your pie-making abilities again.”

“I want that in writing.”

She looks so fucking beautiful—her face lit up, lips swollen from our kiss, those green eyes shining. And those curves. Fuck, those curves. They fill out her lavender summer dress, the material stretching over her wide hips and thick waist.

God, she’s irresistible.

“Are you ready for your prize?” I ask, bending my head to kiss her soft neck.

“M-my prize?” She shudders at my touch. “What prize?”

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